Unstrung
by aphytick
Summary: Kieren's hands move to Simon's stomach, Simon's hips, Simon's back before the creep up the back of the man's t-shirt. He's not really sure what he's doing, not sure what he's supposed to be doing because things had never gone this far this quickly with Rick. They had messed about, but that was years ago, and that was so much different. - Kieren/Simon


**A/N: This is a bit of a mess seeing as I literally just finished the episode, but ah well. I might as well crank this out now, who knows what next week will really be like, and there's no good fic I've seen so I guess I'm desperate and bored enough (not that this fic is any good either, but AH. WELL.) I'm not even going to give excuses for characterisation, I can only apologise.**

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Kieren's exposed eye stung as he made his way to the bungalow, and wiping at it with the knuckle of his thumb only served to irritate it further. His breath, when he could muster it, was harsh, forced and above all, angry.

He shouldn't have been surprised that Gary would pull a gun on Freddie like that, after all he treated putting down PDS suffers - _rotters_ - like it was a sport. It made Kieren sick to think that Jem was like that once, had been so blinded by ignorance and propaganda that she took aim with her Colt on anyone who the HVF deemed dangerous.

Still, it wasn't like he could blame her. They _had_been dangerous, there was no denying the fact, but they had gotten _help_, and it wasn't like Freddie had left with the intention of skipping his dosage. The phrase "accidents happen" was far too lenient, as this was an accident that no-one could afford, but that didn't mean that Freddie deserved to have his life ended a second time.

And to be hog tied and tossed in the back of Gary's truck, and carted off to this non-compliant detention centre just drove even further home the point that they, people like himself and Freddie, were never going to be able to exist without keeping one, milky eye over their shoulders.

If he was honest with himself, Kieren didn't know who he was angry at. Gary, to be certain, but Freddie too, him for being so reckless. At the whole system that treated them like animals instead of people with a condition. At themselves for warranting such treatment in the first place, although that particular breed of anger was laced with a bitter pill of guilt-ridden remorse.

He couldn't dwell on it though, not now, not when he was sure the images of the recently rabid Freddie would stick with him when he slept that night. He had planned to go straight home and make up some excuse for Jem, but his legs carried him off in a different direction and he was more than willing to follow suit.

He thought that maybe he'd go see Amy for a bit to see if she could cheer him up, or maybe to see Simon so he could apologise – although he wasn't sure what to apologise for. Losing his temper, maybe. For refusing Simon, possibly, but he wouldn't take that one back. As unethical as it was and as much as it burned at Kieren to see suffers caged like that, Simon was unpredictable, unreliable and altogether unruly and his proposed action was even more so.

Simon's words had stung, and even then he felt the need to apologise for somehow disappointing him. Kieren didn't know what Simon had thought he'd seen in him, and had felt this bizarre bubble of a want to prove himself to the man, bizarre because he genuinely believed that Simon had been in the wrong, but he was gone before Kieren could speak.

So perhaps he would see Simon.

His shoes scratched over uneven tarmac as he walked to the bungalow's front door, and as he struggled to keep his breath in check, he hammered on the front glass.

He didn't know what he would have done had Amy answered, and felt relief seep down his back when he saw Simon. Kieren scarcely looked at him, instead opting to push his way in to the landing without any word of explanation. He didn't have any to give.

Simon's concern was evident, and he asked "what's the matter, what happened?" and then softer "Kieren?"

Kieren looked at him then, looked away for a brief second, and then back and his fingers latched on to the zipper of Simon's jacket as he stepped in to his personal space.

The kiss, somehow, seemed like the most logical thing to do at the time, albeit not the most appropriate. Simon didn't hesitate in kissing him back, fingers coming to rest lightly on the back of Kieren's neck as he opened Kieren's mouth with his own.

It was loud, they were both aware of that, but Kieren didn't care as his hands moved from Simon's front to lock at the small of his back. Simon dragged his fingers down the curves of Kieren's face, the mousse on his skin coming away greasy and thick before Kieren felt Simon's thumbs pressing in under his jaw, forcing his head to angle to allow Simon to kiss him deeper.

A creak of bedsprings two doors down the hall had Simon pulling back, pushing Kieren's shoulders firmly to get him to let go.

"Simon?" Amy called from the bedroom. "Who is it? At the door, I mean."

Simon reached up to wipe at his mouth with his thumb, the blackened pallor now mottled grey and peach.

"It's only Kieren." He called back. He mouthed _wait here_at Kieren, before stepping in to the bedroom. "I have to go out for a bit, there's been some trouble at the Legion."

"Oh dear." Came Amy's reply, and the genuine concern in her voice makes Kieren look at the carpet. "Well don't you be rash, Simon. And tell Kieren I said hi."

"Will do." Simon finishes, and Kieren catches the lopsided grin meant for Amy slip off his face as he shut the bedroom door.

Simon walks over to him and slips an arm over his shoulders, manoeuvring Kieren out the door. They walk in silence for what seems like a lot longer than the fifteen minutes it is, but Kieren doesn't want to break it. He has no misgivings, no qualms about where they're going and why. He wants to feel guilty, and he supposes that a part of him does, because he loves Amy. Since he rose, since he got better, she'd been nothing but good to him, but Kieren had to admit that he was selfish to a fault. If Simon was willing to go along with this, he wouldn't deny himself that.

Rough, firm hands guide him in to a sizeable shed that backed off a neglected field, and in seconds Simon had him pushed back against splintering wood. He pulled at the cord overhead, but the light bulb must have long died out for it doesn't even flicker.

Kieren's hands are on Simon, under the neck of his hoodie as he pushes it off of his shoulders. Simon helps, shaking his arms to shuck it off before he splays his hands either side of Kieren's head after it drops. He leans in to kiss him again, and this one has more force to it that the last, has more teeth to it than the last and it's not long before Kieren can feel a slick, chilling substance pass between them.

Simon pulls back and his mouth is black, his tongue when he licks at his lips giving the impression that he had made his way through a packet of Black Jacks. He wipes at his mouth with the neck of his t-shirt, but the action is made redundant when he leans down to kiss Kieren again.

Kieren's hands move to Simon's stomach, Simon's hips, Simon's back before the creep up the back of the man's t-shirt. He's not really sure what he's doing, not sure what he's _supposed_to be doing because things had never gone this far this quickly with Rick. They had messed about, but that was years ago, and that was so much different.

Rick had kissed him like a teenager back then, and they fooled around for fun as they both tried to deny how deeply they were involved. But Simon – Simon kissed him like a man, kissed him like someone who had nothing to lose and everything to gain from kissing him.

Simon kissed him like he wasn't afraid to, but they both knew that was a lie.

Kieren's fingers continued their course along Simon's back, but they stilled and stopped entirely when they brushed over the unmistakable ridge of still open scar tissue. There was something else, something cold and solid and Kieren knew the shape well enough to recognise the staples. He gasped, because although Simon had showed off the tracks on his arms freely, he wasn't quite so revealing here.

Simon had pulled back, and grunted, something that sounded sickeningly like _experiment_. Kieren knew it was a challenge, knew that Simon was daring him to push and probe further, but Kieren felt it was better not to ask. There was something sinister about this scar, something with a sordid history that Kieren knew he wouldn't want to hear. His hands moved back to Simon's waist, and Kieren caught the tiniest glimpse of the disappointment he had shown earlier at the practice.

Whatever was to be said about that scar, now wasn't the time or the place to say it.

He put his mouth back on Simon's to placate him, and found fingers tightening in to the too-long hairs at the nape of his own neck. Simon kissed him with an open mouth, with a pushing yet none-too frantic tongue, and Kieren could feel himself grow hard against his own thigh.

He didn't know if Simon was the same, the angle wasn't right and they weren't close enough, so he pulled him in by the waist until their things and chests were practically flush. Simon was hard too, and there simple feel of his dick against Kieren's had him gasping in his mouth.

Simon, for all his charm and subtle charisma was just as aggressive as Kieren had imagined him to be as he pushed in impossibly close. He bit at Kieren's jaw once before dropping to his knees, giving Kieren scarcely enough time to register the action before his hoodie was being pushed up to expose his stomach. The button of his jeans gave with no resistance, although his zip stuck a little on the way down, and for once Kieren was thankful that he could no longer blush.

Once his jeans and boxers are out of the way, Simon wastes no time taking Kieren in to his mouth, causing the younger of the two to hit his head back against the slatted wooden panelling of the shed. Simon's just as good as his attitude allows, if not better and Kieren can do naught but slide his fingers through Simon's heavily waxed hair.

The blowjob was noisier than their kisses; a cacophony of noises including, but not limited to, Simon's mouth around Kieran's dick, his hand around his own, and Kieran's desperate attempt to keep up.

Simon pulls back for a moment, and Kieren is forced to look down at him, but almost wishes he hadn't when the look Simon is giving him almost makes his knees knock. The lopsided grin is back, but what Kieren doesn't know is that it's a mask to fight back the extent of the affection that Simon doesn't want to show. He can't hide that once it slips, but he can give him pretty words, and so Simon does.

"You're beautiful, Kieren." Simon breathed, not with reverence or lust, but with honesty and trepidation.

Kieren groaned deep in his throat; it was the first time he'd heard it with such intimacy that, had his heart still functioned, he was sure it would have ceased doing so entirely. He was too far gone to feel the hollow pangs of guilt right now, but Kieren briefly wondered if he had ever told Amy the same thing, and if it had ever affected her as deeply as it was affecting him now.

"You're – not so bad yourself." Kieren forced out, for lack of a better way to fill the dragging silence. Simon ducked his head and chuckled, deep and low like coal burning out in a fireplace, and Kieren had to look away.

Simon said nothing more as he worked on Kieren's dick again, and Kieren was almost thankful. He came without much ceremony bar the sharp tugs he gave to Simon's hair, and the broken, shuddering, aborted attempts at Simon's name, and Simon followed suit by his own hand until he was finished. Kieren felt his legs give as he slid down the panelling of the shed, and Simon stayed kneeling as he tucked himself back in so they were eye level.

"So are you going to tell me what went on tonight, hm?" He asked, and Kieren balked as he remembered why he had come to the bungalow in the first place.

He wanted to tell him, just to put it out there, but Kieren wasn't sure how much of a good idea that would be. Given to how he reacted earlier at the practice, Kieren was all too aware that Simon would not take kindly to a gun being pulled on a fellow PDS sufferer. Even out of the city and well out of the commune, Simon was still a self-professed disciple of the Undead Prophet, and despite the undeniable connection Kieren felt towards him, he was too cautious to wade in to that territory just yet.

"Yeah." Kieren said, finally. "But not yet. I need to get my head around it all." He shifted, jostling his leg slightly as he tucked it under the other. "We should be getting back now."

"Yeah." Simon agreed. "Look, Kieren-"

"I know." Kieren cut him off, fully aware of what was coming next. "I won't tell her. I wouldn't do that to her. But neither should you, Simon, this isn't fair."

Simon turned his head away, irritated yet passive.

"She thinks you want her like that, and like I said before, you're not telling her anything to the contrary."

"I _know_ that, Kieren." Simon said. "But like _I_said before, I don't lead people on. Now get up, you've got your parents to be getting back to."

"And you've got Amy."

Kieren hadn't meant to make it sound like an accusation – it _wasn't_, but the words still coiled with tension.

"Yeah." Simon drawled. "Yeah, I've got Amy. Come on."

Kieren stood up, briskly brushing the fallen wood splinters and the caked dust off the back of his jeans and hoodie before following Simon back out in to the field. He didn't know what his visit to the bungalow had achieved – he hadn't made himself feel any better about what happened in the garage, and now Simon was a whole new issue entirely. Kieren knew one thing, and one thing only with a certainty.

Simon Monroe was turning out to be just as much trouble as Kieren had initially thought.


End file.
